


A Dying Breed

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-09
Updated: 2010-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Music Meme for Blackwood/Coward</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dying Breed

**Author's Note:**

> You know what's the hardest part? Stopping when the song ends. I want full sized fics of almost all of these, and I seriously don't have time for all these plot bunnies.
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Pick a character, pairing, or whatever you like.  
> 2\. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.  
> 3\. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterward!   
> 4\. Do ten of these, then post them.
> 
> The only cheats I did was some cleaning up for grammar and spelling, and skipping over some songs that were really not suitable. I have lots of soundtracks and strange sound experiment stuff.

1\. Because, The Beatles

"Why?" Coward asks him one night, drenched in gaslight and temptation. "Why this?" with a sweeping arm, as though he's uncertain, or unwilling to indicate specifics; this, us, me, here, now?

"Because." Blackwood mouths against that gorgeous skin. "Because we can. Is that not reason enough?" And bites, delicately. Coward shudders.

"Yes," his says, voice thick with desire. And then, "No. That's not an answer. It's a reason, but is it the reason?"

Blackwood thinks, for a moment, of saying it. Because you are too beautiful not to, because you belong to me and me alone, because I want you, because I love you.

He doesn't say any of those things. Instead, he traces a line down the bumps of Coward's back, pulls him down and keeps him close until he is mindless and boneless.

*

2\. 20 Year of Snow, Regina Spektor

He'd had years of practice avoiding them, all the subtle, and not so subtle, advances, tucked behind offers of tutorship, gifts of little significance and even less interest, offers wrapped in neat wording that all the same spelled out the same thing, over and over again; come to my bed, and I will show you anything you want. They will give him anything, and maybe he should be flattered; but they cannot give him what he wants. So he will not give them anything in return but empty, meaningless smiles, practiced rebuttals and occasionally, _occasionally_, something sharper, something devious, because some men would stop at nothing if he does not remind them he knows too many secrets.

*

3\. Adagio, Yo Yo Ma

Henry is amusing himself by wandering through the crowded floor, watching the people part before him, anxious not to catch his gaze. Conversation hushes where he passes, only to spring up again, louder and brighter behind him. He keeps his smiles to himself; no need to cause a panic. He bores of his game eventually, makes his way to a tall window overlooking the city, studded with light in the evening. It's a far more interesting sight than this room full over overdressed, overconfident, under-intelligent people. The man already at the window seems to think so as well. He slides a glance at Henry out of the corner of his eye, but makes no move toward introductions. Henry eyes him, and knows that tomorrow he will make a point of seeking this man out, of unsettling him with a thoroughly disturbing, overly intimate knowledge of his life.

It does not occur to him that the man will not be in the least disturbed by this.

*

4\. The Children of Lir, Bruce Huron

Coward bites his lip against the sharp twist in his gut, that leaves him breathless, clinging to the stair rail. He can see the front door from here, and there's no one in sight. They've abandoned him as quickly as they could, all of them, terrified of seeming to have any link to someone so disgraced. He didn't mind, wouldn't mind being left to rot. Any other day, there'd be someone coming up the stairs to meet him halfway, to push him against the wall, lead him back upstairs to a bedroom, ignore all his half hearted protests about meetings and tardiness and duties to the state. Any other day.

*

5\. Canned Heat, Jamiroquai

He is damned from birth, has the facts of his unfortunate birth beat into him from the first moment he can remember. There is no redemption for him, no matter what he does, no matter how careful he is, no matter how strong his repentance for sins not even his own.

At some point, he wearies of trying to achieve the impossible, settles for what comes naturally; or at least, what should come naturally, according to everyone that has ever spoken to him. He's no better at it than anything else, but somehow it's more permissible that he bend his mind to dark arts and debauchery and many, varied sins than attempt something … less tainted.

There is nothing tainted about Coward, however, which always leaves him wondering what he has done to receive something like this.

*

6\. Where I Want to be, Chess

Ever since he had meet Henry, there had been something slightly … frantic about him, something obsessive. That his rise to power, that all he had accomplished, stood to accomplish, was not enough, would never be enough. Not for him – he didn't seem to enjoy what he held excessively, but for someone else. That he was striving desperately to impress someone. He thought sometimes that was a large part of why Henry found himself attracted to Coward; because Coward asked for nothing from him, was willing to simply take what was offered, and give more than asked for without making it a challenge to be returned and bested.

*

7\. Song for David, Steve Goodman

Coward slumped at his desk, weary, so tired, mind and body, aching inside. His elbows hit the edge of the desk, arms falling forward, and his head tilts forward to rest against them, leaving him blinking at the dark wood, half obscured by papers. What had he been thinking? That he could have actually kept step with Blackwood? No one could; the man was positively inhuman. How else could he go, and go, and keep going, _never_ falter when lesser men were falling at his feet? But he'd wanted to prove himself more, prove himself worthy of Blackwood's attention, catch and hold the man's attention, if only for the barest of moments. Well, he did, he had, and now he paid the price for it.

*

8\. Breaking Free, High School Musical

People are blind; it's something he noticed early on. They notice what they want to, and carefully ignore everything else. They willfully refuse to make the obvious connections, which is what makes Holmes such a peculiarity – he wonders if the man chooses to see all the details, or if he simply unable not to see.

But most men are not like Holmes, which is why it is perfectly safe to sit next to Coward at the long table, perfectly safe to let his leg lean against Coward's, perfectly safe to catch Coward's hand and twine their fingers together, holding too tightly. Coward is too cautious to jump at the touches, too careful to turn and glare like Henry knows he wishes to, and Henry is just as careful to keep the smile from his face.

*

9\. Follow Me Down, 3OH!3

It was a careful balance he had to maintain, leading the other man down step by careful, cautious step, each sinking deeper into irredeemable sin. You'd think that in comparison to all the other acts he'd committed, this would be nothing new, certainly nothing daunting, but it wasn't so. Henry shuddered away at the slightest touch, tensed at each causal, careless brush, but Daniel could see him watching him with wide eyes, could see desire and distress warring in those lovely, lovely eyes. It is unusual to see Henry at all hesitant, but Coward already knows how this is going to end; with him spread beneath Henry, moaning his name, drowning in the power that surrounds him.

He could hardly wait.

*

10\. She's Not There, Santana

"Don't. I don't want to hear it. How could you?"

"Daniel, will just listen? I'm sorry, but-"

"No! God, you're _sorry_. Sorry. That's just a word, Henry. It doesn't mean anything, especially coming from your lips."

"I am, though. Daniel, please, come here, don't make-"

"Be silent! Don't even speak. There is nothing, nothing you could say. They were right; I should have known better."

"You can't just-"

"Why? What, you'll lose? Why on earth should I care?"


End file.
